Chapter 32
Sean
What the actual fuck? I need a walk—some air. Do something. Anything. In the kitchenette, I snatch a bottle of water before heading to the basement.
Mace beats me to the gym. He’s pounding the boxing bag as if it murdered his best friend. “You should’ve made Lillian tell you their hiding spot when we had the chance. Now, it’s too late.”
Obviously, he’s never dated a strong-willed woman. Judging from the dark circles under his eyes, he hasn’t slept since they walked out.
“Dante charged me with keeping them safe,” he says. “I let everyone down.”
“No, you were supposed to protect them from outside threats.” Stepping behind the heavy leather, I brace it while he throws another combination. “Nobody expected them to bolt.”
“What if Rebecca left because of me?”
“Did you make a move on her?” My breath hitches. He’d better not have.
Mace holds up his gloved hands. “Jesus. Nothing like that… I sensed a spark, you know? I only asked if she felt it, too.”
“And?”
“She kissed me.” Closing his eyes, he shakes his head.
“I’m not sure I follow.” My fists unclench. Guess I’m not knocking him out after all.
“Then she ghosted me. Still won’t talk about it.”
“She’s young.” Who the hell died and made me his shrink?
While I look for the nearest exit, he nods like we’re ready to trade friendship bracelets and braid hair. “I’ve got six years on her, but she’s not a kid. I get the feeling she’s been through some shit.”
“Did she tell you anything about her past?” It’s not my tale to tell, but I can give him a quick summary.
“I read the report. Doesn’t matter if her father’s a crime boss. Nothing matters except finding her before she gets hurt.” He hammers the leather so hard it shoves me back a step.
Bracing my feet, I lean into it. “The file isn’t the whole story. Those sisters have spent their entire lives running from Boyle, who, by the way, isn’t actually your girlfriend’s father.”
I swing the hanging bag at him. “Hold it. My turn.”
“Boyle is obsessed.” Shifting my stance, I strike with a flurry of straight punches. “He wants an heir he can control. He’s probably had people watching the building, waiting for one of us to make a mistake.”
“And now he has them.” Mace grunts as I drive my knee into the target.
“Perhaps, but perhaps not. Rebecca didn’t respond to her burner, but there could be lots of reasons.” I pause, giving him a chance to catch his breath. “Lillian doesn’t trust anyone, including me.”
“I guess it makes sense.” The man hardly knows her, yet something about what he says rings true.
“Does it?” My right hook sends the bag swinging.
He catches it, then raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, bro. A lifetime off the grid? Who wouldn’t hold their cards close?”
Have I been wrong to make Lillian choose between her sister and me? Am I the asshole?
As we spar, my leg responds much better, only complaining slightly. Soon, we’re both drenched in sweat, gasping for air.
Wiping his brow with a towel, he slaps me on the back. “Does it get any easier?”
I shake my head. “I’ll let you know.” After I go back to beg for Lil’s forgiveness.
“Hey, you two.” One of Dante’s men shouts from the doorway. “The boss wants you upstairs. Now.”
Instead of the conference room, the guy leads us to Dante’s living quarters on the top floor.
Warehouse chic. Exposed brick walls. Street-facing tinted windows. No doubt bulletproof. His modern kitchen has brand-new appliances. Stone countertops. Original plank floors. Open floor plan.
The place is every real estate agent’s fantasy sale.
He leads us to a seating area with two wraparound couches and four lounge chairs. Charcuterie boards of cheese and meat cubes, each with a toothpick, sit atop small tables.
“Thanks for coming.” Dante glances up from his computer. “Help yourselves. Eat.”
As I load up a paper plate, Lillian joins us, choosing the chair farthest from me. I can’t say I blame her, but the distance stings. If our host notices the tension, he doesn’t say anything, which I appreciate.
Relationships aren’t a team sport.
Soon after, Daed’s head appears on the monitor. “We ready?”
Dante nods. “Proceed.”
“Okay, so far we’ve drawn a blank finding our two missing women. To help, I downloaded a beta-release AI program. With your permission, I’d like to add him to our conversation. His name is Stanley.”
A resonant voice worthy of Morgan Freeman fills the room. “Good afternoon. How can I assist you today?”
Dante scoots his chair forward. “Stanley, summarize the Parkhaven case to date.”
While I appreciate AI as a tool, it can’t draw human conclusions. We’re burning daylight. We need to find Grams and Becks. This is bullshit.
I keep my trap shut while the machine recaps how the schizophrenic, Simone Hart, ran Lil and me off the road. I say nothing as it describes the fertilizer bomb.
When it mentions how Jeff Pearson claimed to be her brother, I barge in. “I have a question. He kidnapped Samantha Hart months before we started investigating Parkhaven. Why?”
“Grams gave him a candle reading?” When Lillian smirks, I wink, grinning at her. At least she’s not pissed at me anymore.
“Sorry.” Face red, she glances at Dante’s scowl. “Couldn’t resist.”
“Jeff Pearson’s motivation is unknown.” Stanley pauses. “Would you like me to tell a joke or continue?”
“Continue,” Dante says.
“The next incident happened in Manhattan.”
I drift off as the AI describes every detail from the penthouse fire, all the way to Lil’s emergency room visit.
Needing to move things along, I push to my feet. “Then, I was falsely accused of drugging a woman. Jeff used the same substance to roofie Lillian. Yeah, yeah. We were there.”
My partner raises a hand. “Don’t forget Pearson and your father argued. Oh, and someone sent us a video of Grams and Becks with red dots on their chests.”
Dante scowls. “And Fitzpatrick knew your father was in Ireland.”
Lillian bolts to her feet. “Holy crap. The tattoo! I almost forgot.”
With every eye on her, she explains. “The driver who picked us up at the airport, the one who tried to kidnap me, had my father’s mark on the inside of his wrist.”